t important point of defence, the bolt across the river.

"Forgive me for disturbing your rare slumbers."

"I was not asleep; I was awake. Tell me your news, tribune."

"Last night Balbus deserted his post with twenty citizens. They let
themselves down from the Porta Latina by ropes. Outside there had been
heard all night long the lowing of Apulian herds. It seems that their
bellowing was irresistible."

But the smile of the satirist faded away when he looked at the
Prefect's face.

"Let a cross thirty feet high be erected before the house of Balbus in
the Via Sacra. Every deserter who falls into our hands shall be
crucified thereon."

"General--Constantinus abolished the punishment of crucifixion in the
name of our Saviour," said Salvius Julianus reprovingly.

"Then I re-introduce the practice in honour of Rome. That Emperor no
doubt held it to be impossible that a Roman noble and tribune could
desert his post for the sake of roast meat."

"I have other news. I can no longer set the watch on the tower of the
Porta Pinciana. Of the sixteen mercenaries nine are either dead or
sick."

"Almost the same thing is reported by Marcus Licinius, at the Porta
Tiburtina," said Julianus. "Who can ward off the danger which threatens
us on all sides?"

"I! and the courage of the Romans. Go! Let the heralds summon all the
citizens, who may yet be in the houses, to the Forum Romanum."

"Sir, there are only women, children, and sick people----"

"Obey, tribune!"

And with a dark expression on his face the Prefect descended from the
walls, mounted his noble Spanish charger, and, followed by a troop of
mounted Isaurians, made a long round through the city, everywhere
assuring himself that the sentinels were on the alert, and examining
the troops; thus giving the herald time to summon the people, and the
latter to obey. He advanced, very slowly, along the right bank of the
Tiber. A few ragged people crept out of their huts to stare in dull
despair at the passing horsemen. Only at the Bridge of Cestius did the
throng become thicker.

Cethegus stopped his horse in order to muster the guard on the bridge.

Suddenly, from the door of a low hut, there rushed a woman with
dishevelled hair, holding a child in her arms. Another pulled at her
ragged skirt.

"Bread? bread?" she asked; "can stones be softened by tears until they
become bread? Oh no! They remain as hard--as hard as that man. Look,
children, that is the Prefect of